Taking a Walk on the Wild(ish) Side

Of all the major holidays, it’s the only one that falls on the very last day of the month. Thanksgiving has the buffer of Black Friday before we start thinking about December. Christmas gives us a whole week to prepare for the New Year. With Easter, we never know what day . . and sometimes even what month it’s gonna show up inside of. And the Fourth of July has a peach spot as the lead off hitter in summer’s lineup.

All Hallows Eve is the ultimate drop the mic party, and it gets cropped even further if it falls on a weeknight since all murder and mayhem needs to happen inside a two hour window so’s you can get a decent night’s sleep . There is no doubt in my mind that Michael Myers waited until the weekend to steal away to his hometown, since that’s when peeps let their guard down (read: they stay up late, drink copious amounts of alcohol and get super lazy). If he would’ve fucked with the average person’s shit on a weeknight, the boy never would’ve made it out of Haddonfield alive.

For us horror fans who don’t live in the fictional town of Haddonfield, the idea of trying to escape the clutches of a crazed killer whilst running down the street screaming for our lives is nothing more than a pipe dream. So we need to get our fix in other ways. For yours truly, I made horror movies a daily part of my diet for the better part of the last month. And this past Halloween night, I decided to take the girl to a haunted attraction called “Field of Screams”.

I’ve done these attractions before and truth be told, I was never piss my pants frightened. Other than a few jump scares and the occasional freak out session inside a pitch black room, I never got the feeling I was in any sort of real danger. Like, the kind of danger where I’m dragged off into an abandoned factory, subjected to unimaginable torture and then served up as Sunday dinner.

Maybe it’s because I have an intimate knowledge of what goes on at these places once the sun goes down. As an actor, it was my job to scare the living hell out of anyone who dared to trespass into my unholy domain. It’s kinda hard to suspend disbelief after you’ve gotten prepped in a makeup room whilst listening to Jason Vorhees cry about his college girlfriend as Freddy Krueger pops a couple Advil and chases it with a Red Bull.

And then this past Halloween night happened, and I lost my jaded snark. I didn’t get piss my pants scared, but I sure as hell got humbled into a freak out pie . . and I was being force fed seconds. And the worst part is, I knew better.

Because there are rules you do not mess with. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t sit in the first row at a comedy club and you never . . ever show up early to a haunted attraction. Because when you show up early to a haunted attraction, you’ve totally fucked with the ‘safety in numbers’ theorem.

We signed up for the whole enchilada, which meant a couple hours worth of roaming the grounds . . . mostly by ourselves. It didn’t take much suspending of disbelief as we navigated shrinking rooms, rummaged through attics filled with mummies, danced with strobe lit clowns and begged the living dead girls for mercy. This Son of the Bronx conceded defeat before we even made it out of the Den of Darkness.

I regretted this change of plan about halfway through the next venue- The Frightmare Asylum- when Grandpa Sawyer started following my ass around. Because as a horror movie aficionado, I know Leatherface is a vicious psychopath and a clingy grandson. It took me a couple of minutes to convince myself I was safe from a meat hook, which is when zombie mama jumped right into my grill and started brushing my hair. I haven’t been that freaked out since I was on Match.com.

Before we ventured into the Nocturnal Wasteland, I had to change things up yet again. “Okay, you know what? Maybe let’s go with the original plan . . you first,”

My daughter is cooler than the Outlaw Josie Wales, so she simply shrugged before accepting her mission to protect Dad. And she was more than up to the task as we made it through unscathed . . well, except for the mutant chain saw guy who grabbed my arm with a pair of rusty tongs (That’s what it felt like, okay?). And oh yeah . . the sum of my deepest, darkest fears which had us walking through a pitch black school bus as the children of the night invited us to play with them in eternal darkness. Which was totally fucking uncool shit if you ask me.

The hayride was my reward for having taught my daughter another lesson in the art of self defense. I sat back and drank in the cool night air, surrounded by people whose screams provided cover for my profanity. And then I drew up yet another plan . . this one foolproof.

I think it’s the make believe stuff that scares you down to your skivvies. Because when the going gets tough in real time, you can be Carol badass.

Umm . . I never said they were girlish screams. They were more like manly bellows . . .

And Ari is Maggie. She is cold blooded and ruthless when need be.

Buahahaha! I try to keep my hands to myself, but it’s reactionary, yanno? And as an actor, I got punched square in the face a couple times. I learned two things. One, I can still take a punch. And two, don’t stand so close to the patrons.

Too funny … and I’m not pissing my pants with laughter. Loved the line about the screams covering up your cussing. Cheers to your cool daughter and for getting a posse for next year. Hey – July 4th as leadoff hitter? Oh no – that’s Memorial Day … the Fourth is batting cleanup. BTW – The Reds didn’t lose a game in all of October!

Frank,
I curse too much, I’ll be the first to admit it. But when under duress, it’s magnified . . and I was under a little duress thanks to this place. The props are sensational and certain of the actors really up the ante, which makes it fun.
My daughter don’t play, lol. I want her by my side in a zombie apocalypse. She can lead!
I meant the Fourth lands at the beginning of the month, so it has the rest of July to do its thing.
No stopping the Big Red Machine now!

The Reds have a bye until April.
And yes, the Bengals need this rest before their second half push.
Navy is a refreshing change of pace from the propensity of most teams to open it up every single week.

See, now, I thought the lesson would be don’t do that again. Surprise! And “I haven’t been that scared since I was on match.com.” bwahahahahahahahaha!!! And you probably would have had better luck finding a decent match in a zombie who scared you that on that horrible site!

Oh, that SHOULD have been the lesson. But nooooooooooooo.
And yes, that is a true statement. Match.com, while enjoyable enough overall, had plenty of scary stories as well.
Zombies are misunderstood. They are minimalists who immerse themselves in the organic lifestyle and they walk the earth looking to achieve true Zen.

I simply look at it from their perspective. Nine years ago, there was a zombie somewhere who was talking to his friends and he was like “Dudes! We finally have our own TV show!” And no sooner did Walking Dead become their favorite show, were they relegated to second class status. As if the fates hadn’t been cruel enough already . . .

This was terrific, Marc. You have to be a brave person to subject yourself knowingly to the prospect that your jeans might be taking on the urinal role. Since I have become an old guy and like Jack Nicholson do not trust a fart, I refrain from the scary stuff. Loved the description.

I love your take on this excursion of mine! And here I was, doubting my courage . .
You and Jack Nicholson are too old school cool for this fool, but I’m pleased that we enjoy each other’s company so much.
Thank you Boss.

Sorryless

Our mission statement here at sorryless is to provide you with the most pleasant experience humanly possible.

Just kidding!

Hit us up with any questions or comments. We’ll get along splendidly, so long as you possess a dark soul and a biting wit. And umm, don’t be a Scientologist. Because that shit is crazier than Trump’s twitter feed.